Chapter Text
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
That thought vanished the moment he told her to turn around, however. Her eyes were bright, seeming to glow with the hot spring pool's bioluminescence light, the gold markings on her fair and freckled skin standing out with the glow. She immediately started taking in his appearance, her eyes raking from his hair, to his eyes, his facial features, down to his body that was a bit muddled by the water. His hands that sat in his lap covered his most private area, but right now, he felt more exposed than he ever did. But she didn't make a noise, she didn't make him feel cornered as she approached him, wading through the water carefully. Omera and Cara had their beauty, but this woman was off-worldly, with that refined, older, wiser look in her eye. Her beauty was different than any other person he'd met in the galaxy, but she was so breathtaking. Maybe that's why he had let his resolve down.
She comes to a stop in front of him, facing him straight forward, despite him sitting on the natural bench inside the pool, and the moment that she's in front of him, it feels like all wind is knocked out of his lungs. She's beautiful, the spring making her skin glow, and she smells so good. Why does she smell good?
"Can I touch you?" She whispers, and he almost doesn't hear her because of the blood roaring in his ears, but he manages a weak nod. Slowly and gently, she lifts one of her hands out of the water, cupping his face softly.
Oh.
He melts against her hand with a soft noise from his throat, and she smiles softly, biting her lower lip at his noise. He hadn't been touched like that in... In... Oh, Kriff, who knows how long.
Her thin and lanky fingers gently trail down his jawline, to his throat, then to the side of his neck, his ear, then back to his cheek. Then she lifts her other hand up, copying the action. She trails her thumb along his cheekbone and his eyes flutter at the gentleness of it all, almost too sensitive to the touch. Noises try to escape his throat but he pushes them down. He cannot let her know how sensitive he is. He already put down his guard enough, but he foregoes thinking at her next action. She slides her hand through his hair, through his messy, helmet hair curls, and he lets out a breathy moan at the feeling, then shudders when her nails gently scrape along his scalp. He resists jutting his hips forward, his fists clenched tightly in his lap. He can't resist the heat pooling in his crotch though, and he feels ashamed that just simple touches has already got him like this. Din hopes she doesn't notice. She slides her hand back down, her thumb outlining his ear, sliding alongside his jaw, before her hands settled on cupping the sides of his face. His gaze is hooded, and he's staring at her with an almost hungry and vulnerable look, and clearly, she sees his eyes glancing back and forth between her facial features and her lips. He doesn't seem to know how to breathe all of a sudden.
"Can I kiss you?" Oh, Kriff yes! He almost shouts it, but words suddenly seem lost to him, so he nods, but apparently that's not good enough for her. "Cyare, I want verbal confirmation." Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Did she just say a phrase in Mando'a? Because all to hell, this is going to be one insane ride. He melts against her, staring up at her with want and need, and manages a shaky, hungry, and weak:
"Yes, please." He didn't mean for the please to sound like begging, but oh gods, he'd beg for anything right now if it meant being closer to her. With a knowing smile, she leaned in and met his lips with her own.
Din woke up with a start, a fine layer of sweat coating his skin, making his outer garments cling to his body. He struggled to breathe, the little sleeping pod suddenly out of air, and he rubbed his chest to try to get his heart actually beating again. Once he did, he immediately reached up to check on Grogu, but there was no hammock. For a minute, he panicked, then realization crossed him.
Oh. Right.
He was on Slave I.
Grogu was on Moff Gideon's ship after being taken from Din on Tython.
They were in a small hideout on a forest planet near the coordinates he'd gotten from Morak. And it'd been a little over three days since he'd taken off his helmet in front of a bunch of Imperials, and Mayfeld.
A pain hits his heart hard at the realization that his kid wasn't with him. Normally, when he would wake up, Grogu would be right there with him, cuddled up against his side, sleeping soundly, and sometimes, on a rare occasion, even snoring. But right now, Grogu was gone, and not with him, like he should be. But they have the coordinates. They have Moff Gideon's ship. And after the little holocall Din had sent the previous night, the Mandalorian hoped that they were a little terrified about the situation. After all, a Mandalorian sending a message that Moff Gideon had said beforehand was sure to be a little terrifying.
After making sure that no one else was in the ship, Din took a nice shower to rid the sweat off his body from that... That dream.
What in the galaxy was that? Sure, he would have some pent up dreams once in a very great while, but that dream... That felt almost too real. Like a vision or whatever they were called. Din, without thinking, lifts his hand and touches his jaw, remembering the way the woman had gently caressed his face, as if he was so precious that he would break with a rougher touch. He'd never seen the woman in his life, never had seen anyone who looked like her either, and the phrase she had whispered: cyare, which meant beloved or loved, so tender, so loving, was enough to make him press his forehead against the shower's wall, trying to hang onto the dream as long as possible. But from what it seemed, the dream wasn't going away any time soon. He wondered if it was because of all the stress and sleep deprivation he's had, and maybe it all finally caught up to him, and that's why it happened. Yeah, that seemed suffice enough, he decided mentally. All because of stress.
He sighs to himself, resisting the urge, and finally decided that the shower was good enough. Boba, Fennec and Cara would come looking for him sooner or later.
Din got dressed slowly, but not because his body ached from Morak the other day, or because he couldn't fasten anything fast enough, because he had the fastens memorized, but rather, because he wanted to dress slowly. He remembered the brush of her legs against his in the pool, and nearly sat on the edge of the pod at the memory. She had looked at him so lovingly, so thoughtful, that he wants more. He realized that Grogu and Omera were the last ones to give him those kind of looks. But she was just a figment of his imagination. There would be no next time or wanting more. Finally, he pulled on his helmet, and went out to meet the others, his stride a little slower than usual. The Beskar weighed him down enough, but on top of the overall tiredness he felt, he felt like he was walking in slow motion. They'd set up a small campfire the night before, and now Cara sat by it again, cooking something over the flame. Fennec sat on the ground nearby, cleaning her rifle carefully, the parts laying out in front of her on a cloth so she can clean them individually. Fett was nowhere to be found at the moment. Maybe in the cockpit or something.
"Well, look who finally decided to join us." Fennec comments first as he makes his way down the ramp, never taking her eyes off her rifle. Cara laughs.
"I know, I always pegged you for an early riser."
"Felt like sleeping in." He replies gruffly, sitting down on a crate across from Cara. "Where's Fett?"
"Doing a scout around." Cara replies. "Should be back soon." As soon as the sentence left her mouth, Fett came out from the forest, taking off his helmet as he walked over.
"Nice to see you awake. Thought you might have suffocated in the pod." Fett says, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder.
"If you were all so concerned about me sleeping, why didn't you wake me?"
"Eh, with all that you have been through recently, we figured you needed it." Oh. That was understandable, at least. Din doesn't say anything in response, staring at the food cooking over the flame instead.
"So, we should go over the plan." Fett says as he takes a seat on a crate next to him. He pulled the holo out of his utility belt, showing the coordinates of Gideon's ship.
"The ship will be armored and guarded to the teeth, so we will have to approach with caution. The transport ship we were able to target will be passing overhead in about four hours. We'll have to act quick if we want to grab it. Once we are on the ship, you and I will head to find the child, and Cara and Fennec will watch our backs so we're not detected. The smaller group we have, the better chances of escaping quicker we have." Din points out the lower level of the cruiser, where the cells were, drawing an invisible circle around the area.
"It'll be difficult, especially after my message. They'll have it locked down with trooper after trooper, but we should be okay on our own. As long as we get in there, grab him, and leave as fast as possible, we should be good."
"But what happens if you do encounter Moff Gideon?"
The four jumped up in a millisecond, the plan forgotten as their blasters pointed in the direction the voice came from.
Din's breath left him.
No way.
She looked almost like a goddess from the legends of old, ethereal looking. Her copper red hair was in a braid over her shoulder, gold threads weaving in it. Her eyes, the same color of the sky and sea, stared at them unimpressively, but a smile played on those soft looking pink lips that he remembered being so close to him. The gold markings were still there, and freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. She wore dark colored robes, similar to Ahsoka's robes, but a little tighter in some places, and not as baggy. Two lightsaber handles hung from her belt, and she sat crosslegged on a lone crate about ten feet away. How did they not notice her?
Din didn't know what the hell was going on. He was about to ask who she was, but she locked eyes with him, despite his visor, and his own voice left him immediately.
"Who are you?" Fett asked gruffly, and Din felt a bit of relief. He mentally thanks Fett for speaking up, because apparently, he couldn't, for whatever forsaken reason.
"Well, I was looking for Grogu, but I suppose I'll have to look more now." Her accent is moderate, prim and proper, like a royal's or delegate's. Not an accent you find common in the post-empire world. But Din's voice finally came back to him, and he slowly lowered his blaster as realization dawned on him. No one held a lightsaber (Ahsoka would be proud), and didn't call themselves a Jedi. Grogu had succeeded in calling for a Jedi, it seemed.
"You're a Jedi?"
"I am." Her voice were like punches to his chest, and he remembers it oh so vividly from the dream. The way she whispered those loving words, her lips closing in on his-
Snap out of it! He told himself. Thank the Maker that he wore a helmet.
"I heard Grogu's call through the Force, but when I arrived on Tython, all I found was bodies and your ship's wreckage, I assume. I had difficulty tracking you, but..." She smiles knowingly, and a shudder wracks his body. Thankfully, the others are still staring at her, blasters still raised.
"Mando, is it safe?" Cara asks, caution in her voice. The woman tilts her head at Cara, then looks back at Din for an answer, as if testing him.
"Yes. If she's looking for the child, she can be trusted." Din surprises himself with how steady his voice is. Slowly, the three lower their weapons and holster them, but their hands never leave the top of the blasters. The woman tilts her head curiously, analyzing them all carefully and in consideration.
"So, who are you then? If you are a Jedi, do... Whatever Jedi's do." Fennec says, gesturing at her. The woman snorts, leaning forward to lay her elbows on her legs, a coy smile on her lips, and she stares directly at Din.
"Din should know, right?" She practically purrs. Din is suddenly very happy for his helmet, because if they could see his face, he'd look like a molten lava rock. He could feel the heat within the helm, and it only increased when they turned to look at him questioningly.
"What does she mean by that?" Fett asks, then looks at Din curiously. "Is that your name? Din?" He doesn't answer.
"Din Djarin." The woman purrs again, her accent making his name sound so enthralling, and she never took her eyes off of him. Din wants to die right then and there because for whatever reason in the galaxy, her voice seems to know how to hit every one of his spots perfectly, without even touching him. Was it because of the dream? "I'm surprised. After all, you guys are working in close quarters with each other." Din doesn't answer that either, and the woman shrugs, pursing her lips in disappointment.
"Well, no matter." She says, extending her legs and standing up. The lightsabers dangle, and they're all pleasantly surprised that she's actually quite tall. She crosses her arms and grins at them. "My name is Amalas Kenobi. I am a Jedi, and I am going to help you."